


Cold

by spartanroses (babybrotherdean)



Series: God of War Week [4]
Category: God of War (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 09:00:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/spartanroses
Summary: Helheim.





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Day four of GoW Week: the nine realms. I decided to focus on Helheim because Atreus' shivering while they're there is absolutely precious and heartbreaking. Poor baby boy 

Atreus is intimately familiar with the cold. Growing up, he spent much of his time out in the woods, tromping through the snow that lingers for much of the year and feeling the icy bite of the wind at his cheeks. His rare ventures into nearby streams have always left his teeth chattering, and when he was sick- that was always the worst of it. There had been many, many days when he felt as if he would never again feel any sense of warmth, his entire body wracked with violent shivers.

But even after everything- after a childhood defined by winter and frosted at its edges- nothing prepares him for the cold of Helheim.

He’s still reeling from the trip that took him here; everything feels blurry between Baldur sinking a knife into his shoulder and Father finally reaching him, only to crash-land them in this place. He’s disoriented and overwhelmed, and as the seconds tick by with his father’s silence stretching out longer and heavier, the guilt begins to seep in, too. The things he said- the things he _did_ \- it’s a miracle that Father hasn’t abandoned him altogether. The worst hurt is the wound in his father’s shoulder, inflicted by Atreus in a moment of blind rage. At least, he thinks bitterly, they match in this small way.

But the cold- past the cold, he struggles to focus on anything at all. He stumbles along behind his father and tries to breathe through it, but it feels as if his very lungs are freezing in his chest, making each breath a little bit harder than the last. He can’t stop shivering, and though he tries to curl in on himself, hunching his shoulders to preserve body heat, it does little to stave off the frigid air.

Father seems to be entirely unaffected. He’s always run warm, and apparently, even the icy wasteland of Helheim isn’t enough to break through his stoic shell. Atreus has never known his father to show weakness, and this appears to be no different.

When Atreus gets brave enough to speak up, it’s quietly. Quietly enough that the words are nearly taken away on the wind. “I- um… Father?” No response, so he tentatively presses on. “It’s- I’m cold.”

He knows he sounds like an upset child, and after everything he’s done, such behaviour is probably inexcusable, but- but he can’t quite feel his toes anymore and his hands won’t stop shaking. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to hold his bow like this, let alone shoot with any accuracy.

His answer is silence. Father doesn’t so much as look his way, and Atreus feels his heart clench in his chest. After everything he’s done in the past few days- insubordinate, disrespectful, unacceptable- maybe Father will never speak to him again. Maybe after they leave Helheim, Atreus will be left on his own to survive. It’s a scary thought, but one that seems all too real in the immediacy of his mistakes. Father will leave him in the temple and go off on his own, while Atreus is left to- left to-

“Brother.” Mimir speaks softly. Almost tentative. Maybe he’s scared of being abandoned, too. “He’s just a boy.”

The silence stretches on for another few seconds, and Atreus manages to stumble over his own feet as they keep walking. Eventually, as they reach a sharp cliff’s edge, Father speaks, short and gruff. “It is time to climb, boy. Up.”

It’s not the answer that Atreus expects, but he does as he is told and climbs up onto his father’s back. Right away, he understands; with his body pressed close as he clings to Father, it’s easy to steal away some of the man’s body heat. As expected, he’s just as warm now as he is when they’re safe at home, and Atreus shudders with relief, holding on tight and closing his eyes.

“Thank you, Father,” he says quietly, and Father grunts as he begins to scale the side of the icy rock. Atreus can feel muscles shifting under his hands, but none of it distracts him from the feeling of warmth starting to return to his limbs.

When they’ve reached the end of the climb and Atreus prepares to jump off as he usually does- muscle memory meeting with the knowledge of the thin ice he walks on- the last thing he expects is for his father to stop him.

“Stay. There is more climbing to be done.”

There is no further discussion, even as Father carries him like that across perfectly walkable terrain. Atreus keeps quiet, and he keeps close, not daring to say a word and ruin this tiny truce.

Even as the icy winds of Helheim bite at his skin, and every part of his body threatens to freeze solid, Atreus feels safe. He feels warm, clinging to his father’s back and soaking in this small act of mercy.

Maybe there’s hope to be had, after all. Maybe there’s forgiveness.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
